Crime
Prime Target
This math-centric thriller comes with an interesting premise. But Prime Target comes with some primary problems, too.
Working on an oil rig isn’t easy to begin with. You’re on a platform in the middle of a roiling sea. More often than not, it’s cold and rainy. You’re cooped up with a bunch of crew members (some of whom you might not like that much) for days or weeks at a time. Add that to the dangerous chemicals and high catwalks and slippery platforms, and you’ve got yourself one of the most dangerous jobs around.
Add in some supernatural fog, and you’ve got yourself some real problems.
Granted, this is not a problem that most oil rigs have to deal with. Fog? Yes. Supernatural fog? Not so much.
Turns out that all that fog (and the tremors … and the tsunami) are all caused by an ancient underwater entity whom the crew’s taken to calling “the Ancestor.” It’s a sentient being seemingly responsible for continuing life on Earth following extinction events. And the Ancestor is none too pleased with all the ocean-floor drilling and scraping humans have been doing.
What’s increasingly clear to Rose Mason, a representative for the rig’s corporate muckety-mucks, is that the Ancestor is sending deadly warnings to them—warnings that, if ignored, may just end up with humanity itself going extinct.
It’s a message that many crew members recognize. Unfortunately for all humanity, some merely see the warnings as threats—the kind that could warrant a retaliatory strike.
I can’t wait to see how well that works out for them.
The Rig, an original series from Prime Video, serves as both a psychological and supernatural drama. Sure, there’s something mysterious at work in the milk-thick mist. But the tensions on the rig aren’t so mysterious. With no way to call for help and no one apparently coming, the platform’s scared, angry characters get scareder and angrier. Is all the bad behavior fueled by whatever’s at work in the mist? Or is that just an excuse—a fog itself that covers over the workers’ own base instincts?
One thing’s for sure: The show’s makers have little excuse for the content we see and the language we hear.
We see far more blood than oil aboard the Kinloch Bravo—sometimes splashing against walls, sometimes squirting from open wounds. And the language can be as extreme as a North Sea storm, blustering with f- and s-words. There’s even a touch of romance on the rig: Two main characters share more than deck space with each other, a gay couple emerges into the plot, and one lesbian worker longs to reunite with her wife back home.
(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at [email protected], or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)
It looks like another typical day at the office for the crew aboard the Kinloch Bravo. But soon it seems anything but. First the power flickers off. Outside communications go dark. The platform begins to shake—and while it feels like an earthquake, no one knows for sure. And then, looking almost like an avalanche thundering across the sea, the fog sweeps over the rig, and things start to get really weird.
A worker, Baz, falls off a tower shortly after the fog comes. We see the man land on the deck, his body bloodied and mangled. A medic treats him but can do little more than patch his wounds (which ooze and even squirt blood). Most of his injuries are internal, the medic says, and she’s not qualified to operate.
Baz later experiences what seems to be a supernatural vision that jolts him into temporary consciousness. Later, he walks out of the medical facilities and onto the upper deck—either fully or mostly naked. (Most of his body is in shadow, but we do see he’s at the very least not wearing a shirt.) A man and a woman kiss. A woman calls her wife back home, and they exchange blown kisses.
An angry older worker grabs a female medic by the shoulders: The medic answers back with an attack of her own, punching and knocking him over. One man brusquely grabs another on a tower. A bird—still living—lies on a tower, gasping for breath it seems. Another bird startles a man, who nearly falls off a tower. (A safety clip saves him.)
Characters say the f-word some 17 times, the s-word eight times and the c-word once. We also hear “d–n,” “h—,” “crap,” “p-ss” and three abuses of Jesus’ name.
In a recap, we see a blood-covered man. We see some corpses. The Ancestor attempts to break a vehicle.
There’s a reference to a lesbian relationship. Likewise, we see a couple of homosexual men.
Someone claims that they’re the last generation that will get to see a frozen Arctic.
The f-word is used nearly 20 times, and the s-word is used 13 times. The c-word is used once. We also hear “a–,” “h—,” “d–k,” “pr-ck” and “b–tard.” God’s name is misused once, and Jesus’ name is likewise used in vain twice.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
This math-centric thriller comes with an interesting premise. But Prime Target comes with some primary problems, too.
In Netflix’s new anime series Babanba Banban Vampire, a 450-year-old vampire longs for the untainted blood of a 15-year-old boy.
Severance takes us on an unsettling ride—one with few thrilling loops and dips, but strange turns that may still make you a little queasy.
What’s shown here may be reminiscent of what real police officers have seen on the job. I’m not sure the show’s message is strong enough to justify depicting it.
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